


house of cards (burn baby, burn)

by mauvesdior



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Con Artists, Con Artist Louis Tomlinson, Enemies, Heavy Angst, Heavy Drinking, Hurt No Comfort, Liam Payne & Louis Tomlinson Friendship, M/M, Niall Horan & Harry Styles Friendship, No Smut, Zayn Malik & Louis Tomlinson Friendship, substance use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:55:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29356812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mauvesdior/pseuds/mauvesdior
Summary: A 1920’s con artist meets his target. Their story goes as follows.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	house of cards (burn baby, burn)

**Author's Note:**

> i’m seriously addicted to this fic, i think i’m already having withdrawals from not writing anymore. but once i started, i just couldn’t stop, the words flowed perfectly out and i let them find their space on the page. there is some heartbreaking angst in this (not to toot my own horn but), it is also rated explicit, so please be warned about that as well. this fic might be heavily inspired by “the wolf of wallstreet” but nevertheless i’m writing it and here we are. 
> 
> ‘till we meet again  
> ky x

Louis Tomlinson had plans.

In many instances, he just said that so the insufferable bloke trying to spark conversation would leave him alone, but tonight, he actually wasn’t lying. 

Louis couldn't afford to miss this meeting, the restaurant he was to report to just down the street from the rundown bar he was residing. His nerves ticked him off, sending back a swear of words down his throat as he took another shot, the cold vodka settling in his stomach. 

It did nothing to help.

The man (John? David? Louis didn’t bother to remember his name) took the hint and stalked off, leaving Louis alone on the barstool with his ever pressing doubts.

He looked at the clock. A quarter past six. 

He swore to himself that it wouldn’t get to him, that it was just another job and he could handle it, but it didn’t work. Nothing did. Because this wasn’t just another job.

This job is the make or break of his career, his livelihood. Something he’s spent every waking moment of the last six months preparing for, studying the stocks, the economy, employment rates, monitoring every business article that came out in the paper and every inside source he could find. He’s waited years for this moment, the day he would be able to play people like putty in his hands and in result; feel nothing but gold cater beneath his feet, paving sidewalks as he strolled. 

Louis was about to break into one of the wealthiest and most successful companies in the world, building it up as delicate as a house of cards, the intricate placements of his whereabouts and a steady head to break his fall. To let the cards fall one by one and watch them burn, tears of gold streaking down the greedy bastards faces. 

The hour strikes seven. 

Louis takes back another shot, letting the liquid swell in his throat and slams the glass onto the polished wood. Leaving a twenty on the oak counter, the reeking smell of bourbon filling his nose and leaving a taste in the back of his throat, he stands from his seat. 

He swings on his coat jacket and leaves, the soft click of the door the only signal of his departure. 


End file.
